


Language of Flowers

by Neyiea



Category: Rise of the Guardians (2012)
Genre: M/M, Pre-Movie
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-07
Updated: 2013-04-07
Packaged: 2017-12-07 18:51:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,661
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/751845
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Neyiea/pseuds/Neyiea
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Pitch attempts to gain Sandy's favour through traditional means.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Language of Flowers

Life not being believed in is not only disheartening and boring, it’s also incredibly lonely. He spends his nights roaming the Earth in search of children who can see him, but the few he find just aren’t enough to fill the empty void of his existence.

He idly picks the petals off of a flower, lips pursed.

It’s not like he can just walk up to other spirits in an attempt for companionship either; most wouldn’t want to give him the time of day or would befriend him just to wreak havoc, and he’s much too tired for that.

He finishes plucking petals and stares at the stem for a while before grabbing a new flower and continuing the process.

There is maybe one spirit who he could converse with without having to worry about rejection or a hidden agenda. They may have a bit of a history of not precisely getting along, but Sandy at least somewhat understands the necessity of fear and doesn’t begrudge him his job too much, but…

When it comes to Sandy he’s begun to feel uncharacteristically bashful, even though a hundred years ago he was always self-assured in the presence of the other. He supposes that’s what _emotions_ do to you, they make you feel things you’d really rather not. There’s no need for him to feel shy; he’s a suave, powerful spirit, even if he’s currently low on believers, and he’d like to think of himself as pretty decent in terms of looks so he has every reason to be confident in his perusal, and yet…

He tosses the stem aside and picks a new bloom, eyes narrowing.

Sandy is very well liked in the spirit community, who’s to say he’d even give Pitch the time of day to start up a friendship, let alone a relationship. Sure, when they occasionally cross paths he’ll wave and send a smile Pitch’s way, so long as Pitch isn’t doing anything to mess around with his dreams, but that doesn’t necessarily mean anything other than he’s being civil. Pitch can speculate all he wants but he’ll never know for sure until he asks Sandy outright and he needs a small boost of confidence to seek the dream weaver out to do that.

_He loves me, he loves me not, he loves me, he loves me not._

Pitch glares down at the naked stalk. He’s gone through dozens of flowers and he keeps getting the same answer. Maybe it was a sign.

“This is hopeless,” he mutters, but he still reaches out to pull another one from the ground. What was the harm in just one more try?

_He loves me, he loves me not, he loves me, he loves me not._

_He loves me._

“Ha! I knew it!” He cries out triumphantly before sobering up.

What exactly was he going to do about it?

He's seen humans woo and court each other for thousands of years, but that's never been the main focus of his attention so he finds himself in quite the predicament. He glances down at the one petaled bloom in his hand, the scattered blossoms around him, and he comes to a very welcome realization.

Flowers! Everyone likes getting flowers.

But what kinds should he gather? Did it really matter? Would Sandy prefer wild flowers or ones that had been grown in a hot house? Didn't certain flowers have special meanings? With humans the be all end all seemed to be roses, but _anyone_ could do roses.

He needs time to think and plan out a course of action, but first things first.

He needs to go to a library.

He spends hours in a horticultural section, flipping through book after book until he finds precisely what he wants. He takes it without remorse; if anyone else wanted it too bad for them, he had a greater need for it than anyone.

It is with great care and much thought that he crafts his first ever bouquet. He doesn't want to just barge in with something obvious and scare Sandy away, he needs to ease him into it, let him get used to the idea. So the following night Pitch puts together his chosen flowers: a single sunflower to represent admiration surrounded by a bunch of sweet peas for bliss, ties them together with a black silk ribbon and seeks Sandy out.

It isn't particularly hard to find the Guardian of Dreams, but grabbing his attention so that he'll come down to the ground is a bit tricky. He doesn't want to wave his arms around like a lunatic or risk raising his voice to call him over and possibly alert others to his presence. Pitch paces in place, muttering under his breath and so focussed on finding a solution to his problem that he doesn't notice the golden cloud drifting down towards him until he pivots around and he and Sandy are almost nose to nose.

He leaps away, managing to hold back his startled cry, and hastily hides the flowers behind his back.

Sandy tilts his head and gazes at him with concern. Above his head sand shifted around, commenting that Pitch seemed rather tightly wound tonight and asking if he was alright.

"Oh, I'm fine. You just gave me a bit of a shock." Pitch replied as cooly as he could manage.

Sandy grinned and agreed that he was very stealthy before offering Pitch a goodnight and beginning to turn away.

"Wait!"

He turned back, eyebrows raised inquisitively. They rose even further when Pitch thrust the small collection of blossoms under his nose. He took them curiously and gave Pitch a soft, albeit confused, smile.

What were these for?

"I've recently taken up flower arranging." Pitch managed to sputter out. "Having vases of flowers everywhere detracts from the image I try to maintain though, so I figured some of these arrangements would have a better home with you. I hope you'll have a little more appreciation for them than I."

The sand forms a bewildered message of thanks. No one has ever given Sandy flowers before; it was generally a human trait to show appreciation by cutting off a plant from its roots and prolonging its inevitable death by placing it in water. He didn't think he even had a vase at home, he'd have to craft himself one.

"You're welcome." Pitch shuffles his feet and an awkward silence falls. "Goodnight." He steps back into the shadows and let's himself, for all intents and purposes, disappear. 

That hadn't gone quite as well as he had hoped. Sandy had seemed more confused than flattered at the gift, but maybe that was his own fault for using vague flowers that weren't immediately associated with romance. He'll just have to put more effort into the next one.

He waits for a week, because giving Sandy tokens of affection everyday may overwhelm him and possibly baffle him further, and then constructs his next creation.

He takes pansies, which are associated with loving thoughts, of two colours: blue for 'I'll always be true' and white for 'let's take a chance'. Around these smaller flowers he creates a circle of star of Bethlehems to represent reconciliation and hope. He once again ties it together with a black ribbon and hopes for the best.

Sandy's face when he receives this next offering is taken aback with a hazy undertone of pleasure. The smile he gives Pitch upon accepting it makes Pitch feel like flying, but he obviously still doesn't understand what Pitch is trying to tell him through the flowers.

Perhaps he needs to choose something a little more obvious next time.

x-x-x

Sandy isn't entirely surprised when Pitch tracks him down the third time in as many weeks to give him a bundle of flowers. He finds himself enjoying the special attention, though at times he wonders what brought it on. After handing the assemblage over Pitch subtly searches his face, for what Sandy doesn't know, so he makes sure to let his delight at receiving a gift outshine his puzzlement over _why_ he is being given one.

As always Pitch slips back into the shadows before Sandy has the chance to formulate any questions. Tonight he supposes it is a good thing since he's having guests over and mustn't be late.

Still, he finds himself silently chuckling at Pitch's behaviour as he sets the red and pink blooms down beside him and takes to the skies.

For a King of Nightmares Pitch is oddly sweet.

Upon arriving home he changes the water and replaces the flowers in his specially made vase. The warm colours of this newest collection are quite pretty, it's a shame he'll have to watch them wilt and waste away like the others.

Maybe he could convince Pitch to uproot and re-plant the arrays he puts together into a pot instead of cutting their stems. Or maybe Pitch gets a kick out of knowing that the flowers were dying. It's difficult to tell what's going on in that head of his sometimes.

He hears the faint flutter of wings and puts his musings of Pitch on the back burner; his guests have arrived.

It isn't often they come together like this. He hasn't seen Bunny or Tooth in years and he last caught sight of North the previous Christmas, but it's good to check up on each other every once in a while.

They don't have much to talk about though, everyone is slowly gaining more believers as time goes by and there is no trouble on the horizon, so the conversation lulls quite early on. Tooth, in an attempt to keep silence from falling, comments on the pretty flowers Sandy has on display. North nods absentmindedly in agreement and Bunny turns to glance at the vase before doing a comical double-take.

"Oi Sandy, did ya pick those out yourself or did someone give 'em to ya?"

Sandy furrows his eyebrows and informs Bunny that they were a present, although he didn't see why that mattered.

"They're _carnations_ , mate, _pink_ and _red_ carnations."

Three blank looks greet the Pooka and he mutters something about uncultured children under his breath which Sandy huffs at and pointedly reminds Bunny that he's just as old, if not older, than he is. Bunny rolls his eyes at him.

"Every flower has a meaning; pink carnations mean 'I'll never forget you' while red ones mean 'my heart aches for you'. Unless this was just a coincidence I'd say someone's trying t'catch your notice."

Sandy blinks as if in a daze before shaking his head roughly. There was no way, it must have been by chance.

Bunny crosses his arms and looks entirely unconvinced. "If you say so."

They leave not long afterwards and now Sandy's all alone with the vase and its contents and he can't stop gazing at it.

Surely it was a coincidence, it had to be, but...

Pitch acted awfully strange whenever he handed the flowers over, and he always searched Sandy's face for a reaction, like he expected him to notice something. Maybe the meaning behind the gift wasn't a fluke after all.

His cheeks flush bright orange at the thought.

He'd have to make sure; the next time Pitch brought him flowers he'd be ready.

Like clockwork the following week Pitch shows up to hand over his newest creation. Sandy is sure to smile extra wide in thanks as he accepts it and feels an incredible surge of glee when Pitch flushes purple and sputters out a goodbye before disappearing.

When he goes home to flip through a hastily borrowed book he finds that yellow tulips represent being hopelessly in love while red are a declaration of love.

He looks up all the other flowers he's received while he's at it and there's no way Pitch keeps giving him romantic messages by chance, not four times in a row.

Pitch is trying to win his favour, trying to woo him, and Sandy is intrigued, delighted and bemused all at once.

He would have figured this out a lot sooner, and all by himself too, if Pitch had given him something obvious like red roses or had actually declared his intentions aloud instead of just assuming that Sandy would eventually catch on to what he was doing. He's willing to overlook this awkward strategy though because he feels like he's received several love letters from the same person all at once due to a mishap at the post office and it's quite possibly the best feeling in the world. He could almost swoon.

Upon receiving the fifth bouquet, anemones for unfading love surrounded by a chain of forget-me-nots, he makes sure to have a favourable reaction and Pitch, confidence bolstered slightly, sticks around a little while longer than usual, but he still slips away far too soon.

Evidently he's going to have to do something to show Pitch that his advances are more than welcome, and he's pretty sure he knows what.

x-x-x

It's not going quite how he expected. Sandy has at least ceased with his confused looks and appears to be genuinely pleased whenever he shows up, but Pitch still isn't sure if he _realizes what he's trying to say._

If he doesn't catch on with this sixth gift Pitch may just give up trying to be subtle and give him a dozen red roses and be done with it.

He's very proud of the next group of flowers he's put together. Daffodils for a desire for affection to be returned and mistletoe flowers for, well, 'kiss me'.

He's hoping that Sandy's spent enough time around North to identify the mistletoe even though it's not in its more acknowledgeable berry form. Then maybe if he's particularly lucky Sandy will question _why_ Pitch would give him anything with that plant and will connect the dots.

For a little bit of added symbolism he takes his customary black ribbon and entwines it with one of gold before wrapping it around the stems, and then he's ready to depart.

It's even easier than usual to find Sandy, in fact these last couple of times the Guardian of Dreams appears to be waiting for him. Before he can present his latest bouquet with a flourish Sandy tugs on his robe and pushes him onto the cloud of dreamsand, a wrapped box floating over his head in explanation.

"You have something for me?"

Sandy nods enthusiastically before setting off.

This is a good sign, right? Exchanging gifts is a couple-y thing to do, at least he supposes so, and he's quite curious as to what Sandy would have gotten him. Not to mention that being invited into Sandy's home is a sign of trust, so obviously he's endeared himself to the dreamweaver somewhat.

Sandy leads him into a sitting room and motions for him to stay put while he goes to grab his present and he's back in the blink of an eye, playfully concealing something held aloft in dreamsand behind his back.

"I'll go first then, shall I?"

He reveals the flowers and watches in ill-concealed anticipation as Sandy takes them and looks them over, glancing up with a sly sort of grin.

He'd definitely recognized the mistletoe, Pitch is sure of it.

He toys with the black and gold ribbons before offering up his own gift in return; a small potted plant. Pitch takes the familiar looking flora carefully and tries to remember its name. He's fairly certain it's an ambrosia flower which means-

His gaze snaps back to Sandy who has taken one sprig of mistletoe and is holding it over his head cheekily.

-'your love is reciprocated'.

"Oh."

Well, it would be rude to keep Sandy waiting, wouldn't it? He swoops down so that he can press a kiss to the other spirit's cheek, but Sandy turns at the last second so that their lips brush.

Pitch is, unsurprisingly, completely okay with this.


End file.
